


The Perks of Being In Love

by Unwoundclock



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Best Friends, Inexperienced Kissing, M/M, Slow Build, Wirt's a hopeless poet, and Dipper has a crush, highschool!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unwoundclock/pseuds/Unwoundclock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the first day of high school and Wirt had already resigned himself to the back of the room, mourning the upcoming year. A mouthy boy sitting next to him changed that. Highschool!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're Ink On My Hand (In My Head)

> "Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."
> 
> -Plato

It was the first day of high school and Wirt had already resigned himself to the back of the room, mourning the upcoming year.

This year would suck, just as middle school had, and he'd probably keep his excluded hermit rep this year as well. He wrote in pen up his arm to calm himself down, as poetry always helped to soothe his mind and whatever was left of his soul. His poetry was gloomy, border-line manic depressive sometimes, and held a certain Edgar Allen Poe quality that Wirt had never been able to shake. Not that he wanted to. Poe was practically his dead mentor, teaching him the ways of Gothic poetry from ten feet under the ground.

The teacher walked in and Wirt held his breath, understanding that teachers could practically smell a student's fear. If you sat really still though and didn't make eye contact they'd sometimes look you over. No such luck this year. The teacher turned around from the chalkboard and looked directly at Wirt, her small eyes instantly sticking to him from behind her glasses. She pointed a finger at his arm, "you know, you shouldn't write on yourself. You could get ink poisoning."

Oh yes, the line that every art student and creative soul hated hearing. The Ink Poisoning line. Wirt had gotten it enough times that he knew not to rebuke that myth and just nod as though he understood and wouldn't do it again. It was also humorously ironic when teachers got their facts wrong and told them to students, but that was probably just Wirt's twisted sense of humor.

"Actually you can't get ink poisoning from drawing on yourself," a boy sitting in the desk across the aisle said quickly. He sounded sure of himself but in a quiet way that sounded more like he was muttering to himself under his breath. It sounded like it would physically hurt the boy _not_ to correct the teacher. The teacher raised a sharp eyebrow and turned on him, "excuse me?"

The boy looked up from under his blue and white baseball hat, "You can only get ink poisoning from ingesting ink. Most pens are non-toxic. A person would have to consume more than one ounce of ink to get ink poisoning. So you're uh, wrong."

Wirt raised an eyebrow, simultaneously impressed and intrigued and vaguely worried for this mouthy walking encyclopedia. The teacher gave the boy an odd stare and looked like she was about to respond in a negative fashion when the bell rang, signifying the start of class. Her mouth twisted in a forced smile as she walked to the front of the room, muttering a quick, "very interesting" before she addressed the class.

Wirt had stopped listening by that point. Instead, he'd taken to looking at the mouthy boy whom, for the record, was a lot more interesting. The boy caught his eye and gave him a subtle wave. Wirt instantly returned it and a smile tugged at his mouth. Maybe this year had some perks that middle school hadn't had. He wrote a little note on his hand. Maybe he'd make a list.

Perk one: The Fascinating Boy Sitting Next To Me With A Knowledge Impulsion

* * *

 

The Fascinating Boy happened to have a fascinating name and that name was Dipper Pines.

From day one they'd gotten along smashingly. After a little whispering in the back of the room it was pretty clear why. They liked the same Indie, near-unknown bands and shared a love of weird, slightly twisted topics. They were also both introverted and quiet, content to just listen for a while instead of talking. Conspiracy theories, unsolved murders and paranormal activity were all game for discussion. Dipper was obviously a huge fan of abnormal activity and Wirt suspected that there was a reason behind that but felt that it was a little too intrusive to ask.

They ate together during lunch, sneaking out of the cafeteria to sit in the library. Between the book shelves they discussed Plato and Aristotle, debating free will and morality. Sometimes Wirt would go on a tangent, repeating verses upon verses of Palto's _Timaeus_  and Dipper would just sit back and listen. No one had ever listened before.

"—The fact is, that wherever the extremity of winter frost or of summer does not prevent, mankind exist, sometimes in greater, sometimes in lesser numbers. And whatever happened either in your country or in ours, or in any other region of which we are informed-if there were any actions noble or great or in any other way remarkable, they have all been written down by us of old, and are preserved in our temples."

Wirt glanced at his best friend, a smile slipping onto his face when he saw that Dipper's eyes were closed and he was nodding slowly, half-asleep. Wirt leaned over and gave his friend a well-intended flick on his nose. "Wha—what?" Dipper's eyes snapped open and he sat up, blearily looking around. "Oh, did I fall asleep?" He asked as he rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. Wirt shook his head in mock disappointment, "I can't believe you Dipper! Here I was, reciting some of history's greatest written wisdom, and you just doze off on me. I'm insulted, Dipper, really. Utterly insulted to the core."

Dipper looked more guilty than Wirt would have expected. "Crap, I'm sorry man. It's just just that I was up late studying for my Pre-Calc test last night and didn't get to bed as early as I'd hoped. I really enjoy listening to you recite, I swear that I didn't mean to just sleep like that. Your voice is really nice and I just, I don't know. It was soothing or something and I just drifted off." The boy looked up at Wirt, "sorry."

"I was joking, you nerd." Wirt laughed and tussled Dipper's hair. "I know that you have a test today. Also, you looked kind of cute sleeping like that. Kind of reminded me of [Princes in the Tower](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Princes_in_the_Tower)." Wirt laughed when Dipper got the Shakespeare reference and looked affronted, "is that just your nice way of telling me that I looked like a dead person?"

Wirt shrugged, a grin tugging its way across his mouth as he raised his hands in protection. Good move. Dipper punched his shoulder and then told him to "hold still" as he fell back asleep on him. Wirt wasn't used to physical contact but one would have to be very, very cold-hearted to get mad at Dipper for sleeping on their shoulder.  
  
He started to recite again and closed his eyes as well, hoping that the bell would be loud enough to wake both of them up. _Wait,_ Wirt thought as his eyes flickered open again. He reached into his backpack—being as quiet as he could against all of the papers and oddly loud loose change in his backpack—and took out a pen. He took it in his left hand and pulled up his sleeve. Under the first perk he carefully wrote:

Perk two: Enlightening Library Cuddles In Retaliation To Death

* * *

 

"You utter jerk! Fighting isn't very diplomatic." Wirt gritted out before Dipper pushed his face back into the carpet with a triumphant grin. The rest of his body was immobilized by Dipper's surprisingly steadfast knees. "Admit it, Carl Jung was more innovative and the better mind between him and Freud." Dipper challenged and Wirt sputtered in indignation, "yeah, innovative being the key word! Most of his stuff wasn't even backed up by clear evidence. Imaginative is more like it."

Dipper mock gasped and Wirt pummeled him over onto his side, trying to pin down the other boy's hands with little success. "oh please, and Freud didn't? Have you ever looked at his—ouch! Watch your knee, Wirt!" Wirt laughed at how close he'd been to accidentally kneeing Dipper in the crotch and moved his knee, only to get pushed up against the wall by Dipper. Wirt half-heartedly tried to get lose before giving up and catching his breath. Both of them weren't exactly jocks and were breathing heavily. Wirt sent a quick thanks to whatever deity (or something. Wirt considered himself pretty Atheist) that had gotten him to thoroughly brush his teeth this morning.

"Not only were Freud's studies not conducted in a lab, he didn't even follow standard scientific procedure." Dipper stopped for a second to breathe, "let's not forget that he thought that human nature was based on basically nothing but violence and sex."

"I think that's true," Wirt said, trying not to feel awkward at their close proximity. Dipper paused, raising an eyebrow. "Really? I thought that you'd be one of those people who thought people were above evolutionary animalistic behavior." Wirt shrugged as well as he could and smiled lopsidedly, "humans are animals." Dipper stared at him for a second before shaking his head tiredly and letting Wirt's wrists go. "You're weird, poet boy."

"You're one to talk, Mr. I'll-Pin-My-Best-Friend-To-The-Wall-For-Jung." Wirt pushed his bangs from his eyes as he lay down on the carpet. Dipper followed suit and scoffed, "what, afraid that I'd kiss you?"

"Actually, punching seemed a little more likely, considering your uncomfortable obsession with a certain psychologist," Wirt laughed, trying really hard not to envision Dipper pressing him against the wall and kissing him. He was a teenager! It was difficult not to wonder about how some things would feel.

Dipper frowned, "I do not! It's not like you're hot—wait. I mean, it's not like _he's_ hot or anything!" There was a silence.

Wirt cracked a smile, "Was that..." Dipper blushed and flipped over so that he could see Wirt, "don't say it Wirt." Too late.

"That was such a Freudian slip! Oh my god you think I'm hot! Dipper thinks I'm hot. Mabel!" Wirt yelled, laughing, and Dipper promptly shoved a hand over Wirt's mouth. "Oh my god, no. Don't say anything. She already thinks that I'm, uh." _Thinks what?_  Wirt wanted to ask but Dipper was already starting up another play wrestle and hell if Wirt was going to lose twice.

After another round they were both utterly exhausted and Dipper got up to take a shower. While he was gone, Wirt walked over to Dipper's desk and picked up a half-chewed up pen. On the faded list on his arm he wrote:

Perk Three: The Way To Argue Is Not By Fists, But It Sure Was Fun

or, alternatively:

Perk Three Point Five: He Blushes Like The Sun

* * *

 

It was a little late to reconsider things when both of them stumbled into an anonymous bathroom, about to be sick. Yeah, one of them could've waited outside but then there would have been a mess in the hallway. Dipper got the toilet, Wirt got the sink.

Maybe they should have gone slower with the alcohol. They were both in their third year of high school and this was their first real party together. Some girl had invited Dipper—he was good looking, Wirt had accepted that by now—and he'd brought Wirt along with him. Now, both of them were strongly regretting the Who Can Drink More bet they'd done. For the record, Wirt had won but only because Dipper had started laughing and once he got started he hadn't been able to stop. It had almost immediately caused Wirt to spit out his drink laughing too but not before he'd downed the rest of his bottle. Yay, he won. It really didn't feel like much of a prize as he emptied his stomach into the porcelain basin.

After a while both of them had mostly stopped vomiting and they sagged next to each other against a bathtub. Dipper still laughed a little like everything was funny and that was actually really nice because usually Dipper was stressed by his honors and AP courses and he didn't smile very often. Yeah, maybe being drunk wasn't the ideal situation but Wirt took Dipper's laughter in whatever form it came.

"You know, we smell really bad," Dipper said as he looked down at his clothes, nose wrinkling. Wirt had noticed this too but there wasn't really much they could do about it at this point. He'd pretty much gotten comfy in his soiled clothes when Dipper stood up—kind of unstably—and pulled Wirt up too. Of course Dipper, being the inventive one, had an idea.

"Let's take a shower."

"Excuse me?" Wirt asked, partly because he was drunk and a little slow, but also because that idea sounded really bad for some reason. What reason? Hell if he knew. He was really, really drunk and that was all he could wholeheartedly focus on at the moment. Dipper looked determined though as he turned on the shower. Water poured out of the shower head and Dipper nodded as he got in, clothes and all. He almost slipped and that caused Wirt to step in after him because if one of them was going to get injured while drunk then by Jove both of them would get injured drunk.

The water poured over his head and Wirt felt his clothes cling to his skin as the water thoroughly soaked him. He sputtered and then laughed because _holy hell, what the fuck were they doing?_  His shoulder leaned heavily against the marble wall and he blinked his eyes open to look at Dipper.

Dipper stared back and then smiled again and goddamn, Wirt wanted a poster of that smile on his bedroom wall. He wanted little pin buttons with that smile on them like the kind they gave out for elections. He wanted to say as much but he couldn't really talk reliably at the moment and it sounded like a pretty important thing to say so it had to be perfect. He vaguely registered Dipper walking closer to him until he was right in front of him.

"What?" Wirt asked, blinking a lot because the water kept getting his eyes.

Dipper leaned in close, his fingers on either side of Wirt's head, "kiss me."

Wirt tried to comprehend the words through his heavily addled brain. He'd heard about drunk people delusioning. This was probably a weird effect—a hallucination or something—caused by a mixture of rampant hormones and drugs. Dipper leaned in, probably to kiss him, but his lips landed against Wirt's cheek instead. Okay, so maybe it was real.

Wirt promptly slipped on the bathtub floor. On instinct, he'd grabbed Dipper's vest and so the other boy, already unsteady on his own, fell down too. "Shit," Wirt mumbled, relived that neither of them had hit their heads on anything. His knee and extending leg hurt like hell but the booze was already numbing the pain so he figured that it was okay. He looked down and saw that Dipped had fallen asleep on his lap. Had he been a little more rational, he supposed that he would have thought that sleeping in wet clothes was a bad idea. As it was, he wasn't very rational at all and sleep was looking like a very nice idea.

At the time he was too drunk to think, much less write, but later he added:

Perk Four: If Kissing In A Shower is dangerous, One Can Only Image How Deadly Sex In A Shower Is (Still Curious Though).

* * *

 

The day after their party adventure, Wirt found himself with a cast up his leg and a worried best friend by his side. Of course he'd broken his leg, snapped his shinbone from the fall. Really, it hadn't hurt much but that was probably just because he'd passed out in the tub about five seconds after it happened.

He and Dipper had woken up in the tub the next morning and it'd only taken a glance to realize that Wirt's leg did not look like it should ("Is..Is your leg supposed to be bending that way?"). After a brief trip to the ER and a couple of really crappy coffees, they were hanging back at his house.

"Still can't believe that you broke your leg at a party. In a shower. Drunk." Dipper laughed and shook his head again, leaning back on Wirt's bed. They were pretty much confined to Wirt's bed because he sure as hell couldn't stand up. Wirt was still reeling from how dumb that sounded too. Then again, his head was still reeling from a lot of things. Mostly it reeled from Dipper asking to kiss him. Or the other way around. It didn't really matter which way it was because it was just as baffling both ways.

Yeah, they'd been drunk but not _that_  drunk. Wirt certainly hadn't been drunk enough to ask his best friend to make out with him and he'd had more to drink than Dipper had. He also knew that he thought Dipper was cute, whereas Dipper had probably never thought about kissing a guy before in his life. Logically, it was just confusing. Thing was, Wirt knew that Dipper wasn't into guys. 

"And I raised thy glass to mine, why doth thou speak in tongues when it can be set firm in nought but a breath, I'm nothing but filled with immortal jest and a longing to caress..." Wirt blushed at the verse he'd absentmindedly recited and trailed off, hoping that Dipper wouldn't read too much into it. He had to stop blurting out weird, emotional lines like that. He chanced a glance at Dipper and was met with a confusing stare. Oh, Wirt wasn't sure what to think of that look. "Uh, Dip?"

Dipper looked conflicted for a moment and then turned around to face him on the bed, "Wirt, about yesterday." Wirt held his breath, wondering where Dipper would take this conversation. An odd feeling started up in his chest, like the soft revving of an engine, hot and fast. "I realize that it's mostly my fault that you broke your shin and I'm really sorry about that. I'm like really, really sorry." Oh, nothing about the kiss. Wirt supposed that he'd known that it wouldn't be brought up again. He smiled and waved his hand, "hey, it's cool. Now I get a cast and you have to do everything I say until it comes off because, you know, it was your fault."

"Okay," Dipper said, turning away and absently looking at Wirt's vinyl record collection. Wirt could have sworn he saw Dipper smile.

Perk Five: Problematic Poems Lead To Heart Burns And Feelings But It Doesn't Feel Like Dying


	2. There He Was But Where Was I

* * *

Both of them were on the track team because of a joke gone awry. ("How funny would it be if we joined a sports team?" "Oh god, that'd be hilarious" and the gym teacher had overheard them.) So now they were running their third lap and sweating like hell. Both of them were actually surprising good at long-distance because of their long legs and track wasn't half as bad as they thought it would be. Dipper wiped an arm across his forehead and made a "whoo" sound as they finished the lap and slowly jogged to a stop.

"Dip, the water bottle," Wirt managed as he rested his hands on his knees, recuperating. Dipper had always been better at the whole lungs-don't-feel-like-they're-about-to-explode thing. His friend tossed him his bottle and wow, suddenly water was the new best thing. Their coach walked over and gave them a thumbs up, "nice time, guys. Don't forget the rally next Friday." The rest of the kids finished running and the coach blew his whistle, "okay, everyone head to the gym."

Wirt tugged at his grey T-shirt to get some air going because his shirt was sticking to him with sweat. "Ugh, I feel gross," Wirt complained as they walked into the locker rooms, the smell of feet and Axe body spray hitting them. Dipper laughed and started pulling off his shirt, instantly causing Wirt to avert his eyes and turn around, pulling off his shirt as well. He tossed it onto a bench and then took off his pants and boxers, tying a towel around his waist as he got his soap.

"Hey, do you have any shampoo?" Dipper asked and Wirt said "yeah, one sec" before he found a little container and tossed it to the other boy. Dipper caught it—surprisingly—and said "thanks."

Wirt stepped under the stream of water and closed his eyes, running his hands through his hair. He rubbed the soap over his body, "Hey, mind if I come over tonight to study for that US history test? This one's supposed to be difficult and I already have like a B in that class...Dipper?" Wirt squinted his eyes open, not keen on getting soap in his eyes. He blinked owlishly when he saw that Dipper was pretty much right next to him, holding the borrowed shampoo. "Uh." Wirt said, a little embarrassed by their proximity. Dipper took about three seconds to go red as he practically hurled the soap container and hastily retreated from the shower room sputtering, "shit, shit, sorry. Ah—" Dipper almost slipped but caught himself—"later."

Wirt made a confused face and picked up the soap container from the tiled floor, "Dipper?"

He heard a locker slam (he somehow just knew that it was Dipper's) and knew that he should probably get dressed and see if he could find out what had happened. He frowned and looked at the almost-gone writing on his arm. He stepped out of the spray and walked over to his bag, hurriedly putting on a shirt and pants. He slung his bag—he also picked up Dipper's bag, which the other boy had forgotten in his haste—over his shoulder and jogged out of the locker room, making a B-line for Mabel's locker because that's where Dipper usually went when he was upset.

Sure enough. Wirt smiled when he saw Dipper's wet hair, dripping water from his clothes onto the hallway, saying something frantically to his sister. Mabel nodded understandingly and then hugged her twin—"Awkward sibling hug!" Pat, pat—before punching him on the arm and telling him to, "human up already, bro. Gee, you just gotta..." Wirt didn't really hear what else she was saying because she lowered her voice so he just decided to walk up to them.

"Hey," he said, waving slightly as he lifted up Dipper's bag. "You forgot this in the locker room."

Dipper blushed and said an awkward "thanks" as Mabel smiled really, really widely. "Aww, Wirt you're such a prince. You know, if you can't find anyone to take to the prom I wouldn't mind it if you—" Dipper quickly elbowed her in the stomach and she laughed, winking at Wirt jokingly. Then she closed her locker and messed up Dipper's hair, "I don't know what happened but come on, mom's going to pick us up soon. Get your stuff in order." Then she waved and walked off with her glittery backpack.

Wirt stood in front of Dipper, making sure that the other boy wouldn't try to evade him again. "Dude, what was that about?"

Dipper shrugged, looking down at his shoes while his hands tightened around his bag. Wirt sighed and ruffled up Dipper's hair too because that's just kind of what he and Mabel did when they wanted to cheer him up. "Well, whatever. Come on, your mom's going to be mad if we're late again." He wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulders and then steered him to the door, causing the other boy to crack a smile grin. Dipper relaxed under his arm, "sorry, that was weird," he murmured. Wirt just laughed, "yeah, I mean, you were gone so fast I thought that you hadn't put any clothes on before you left. I was worried." That got Dipper to punch him and everything was back to normal. Wirt didn't bring up the incident again but sometimes he'd turn it around in his mind, wondering if maybe...well maybe...

Perk Six: Best Friends Are Best Friends Even After Awkward Nude Incidents

or maybe

Other Perk Six: What's With Dipper And Showers?

* * *

"Hey, Dip! Can I use your water bottle? I forgot mine." Wirt called across the track field and the other boy yelled back "Sure." Wirt picked it up and undid the top, bringing it to his lips.

Their eyes met for a second while Wirt was drinking and a sudden warmth felt like it'd exploded everywhere in his bloodstream. They both looked away quickly but the feeling didn't leave for a long time.

Perk Seven: Indirect Kissing And A Hazy Feeling

* * *

"Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to get a coffee sometime," Sarah said, brushing a dark lock of hair behind her ear. She smiled prettily, her tomboyish jacket sagging over her NASA shirt. Wirt felt his cheeks go pink as he repeated the words in his head. "Uhm, yeah sure. That'd be, uh, cool." Sarah smiled and said "rad" before giving him her number and waving goodbye. Wirt stared at the digits in amazement and watched her leave. He'd never gotten asked out by anyone before.

Wirt looked to his side at Dipper, "Dip, did you see that?"

A second later Wirt kind of wished that he hadn't. Dipper glared at him and just continued walking, faster than before. Almost like he was trying to leave Wirt behind, which he probably was. "Hey, wait! Dip!" Wirt scowled and crammed the number into his pocket as he chased his friend. God, they really had to have a talk about Dipper's escapism tendencies.

He caught up with Dipper just as he'd turned into a hallway, catching ahold of his wrist and turning him around. Wirt pushed Dipper against the wall and held his hands as he pinned him to the wall. "Seriously Dipper, what's up? You can't just leave me every time I accidentally do something you don't like!"

"I can do what I want, you don't own me, Wirt. Just leave me alone you jerk," Dipper yanked his hands from Wirt's grip and glared at him, a little hindered by the way his eyes were tearing up. Wirt frowned, "I'm not trying to own you Dipper. You're my best friend. I just want to know what I'm doing wrong." Wirt paused, "I don't want to make you upset."

Dipper scowled and wiped a hand over his eyes, "it doesn't matter." Wirt almost scoffed, "Dipper, it obviously matters. Come on." He tugged Dipper further away from the other students—not that they were looking, just for privacy—into a small cove in the wall. "Now tell me what's going on. Did you like Sarah or something because I'm totally cool with not going on a date with her." Dipper shook his head and Wirt tried to think of another reason. "If I got a girlfriend I wouldn't forget about you, you know."

Dipper sob-laughed, an ironic, almost paradoxical, sound. "Yeah right."

"Dipper, I'm serious. You're my best friend, like, my mental soulmate. You're more important than some makeouts or dates." Dipper just rolled his eyes, "you sap" and Wirt just grinned. "Says the guy that's crying over an entirely hypothetical future where I'm dating a girl and forgetting you. Like that could ever happen."

Dipper nodded, "yeah. That's it."

Wirt wasn't entirely convinced but the bell rang and Dipper ducked out of the cove towards his AP Chemistry class. "Later," Wirt said but Dipper had already disappeared into crowd. He pulled out his phone and texted Sarah that he actually couldn't go on a date with her.

Perk Eight: He's More Important Than Anything's Ever Been Before

* * *

That night was the first time Wirt jacked off to the thought of his best friend. The last thing he saw behind his eyes was Dipper's face in the shower room, an imaginary hand ghosting up his thigh. His eyes snapped open and he got up, detangling himself from his hot sheets. He stumbled over to his bathroom and clicked on the light, turning on the faucet. He cupped his hands under the stream and then splashed the water onto his face.

"Dammit," He whispered before he turned the water and lights back off. He got back under his covers, his skin feeling simultaneously sweaty and cold.

Perk Nine:

Wirt decided against writing anything. Instead, he rolled over in bed and quietly willed himself to fall asleep.

* * *

Wirt looked into the mirror, trying to see if he felt any different. No, not really. Today was his 16th birthday. It was a big one, or so Mabel said. He made a few faces in the glass and then brushed his teeth, humming the Piano Man song under his breath. He spit into the sink and wiped his mouth on a towel.

Downstairs, his mother had bought a cake from the store and his father smiled warmly as he gave him a new diary—leather binding!—and a phone. "To call that friend of yours with," his mother said cheerily, patting him on the back. Wirt wasn't really sure what she meant by that but he blushed slightly regardless, "thanks." Then, of course, Dipper had arrived and dragged him out to the park. "What's in the park?" Wirt asked, mostly just liking the way Dipper was holding his hand as he led the way. "That's obviously a secret, birthday boy," Dipper answered and then said, "close your eyes. No peeking at all, okay?"

"Original," Wirt smiled cheekily and he was sure that Dipper glared at him but his eyes were closed so he couldn't confirm the suspicion. Dipper's fingers curled into Wirt's and his heart started its mad thump again, like it was dashing to a finish line just outside of his chest. They stopped and Wirt felt a light breeze on his face, grass brush his toes. "Can I open my eyes?" He asked.

Dipper's hand slipped from his, "yeah open them." Wirt did—

And promptly got a bundle of flowers shoved into his face. He sputtered and laughed before his eyes adjusted and he stared at the violets that were being held out to him. He looked at Dipper, not sure what the flowers were supposed to mean (did platonic friends give each other flowers?) Then he looked around and realized that they were in the middle of a garden. There were rows of flowers, all different colors, springing up from the grass. Wirt blinked as he took the violets, "Where are we?"

Dipper smiled sheepishly "This is where Mabel and I like to hang out. Our treehouse is around here in the forest and well, we thought that you'd like a garden because uhm, you like flowers and pretty stuff like that so we thought that, well, we should plant some stuff. Or something..." Wirt blinked back tears because god, he did love flowers. This looked like scenery straight from a fantasy novel and he wanted to sit down and write poetry here.

"Dipper," Wirt looked at his friend, sure that he was crying now. He didn't really know what to say to express how _amazing_ the gift was so he just threw his arms around Dipper's shoulders and pulled them together. "I want to live here," he said into the skin of Dipper's neck and Dipper went red and hugged back before Wirt pulled away to look at all the different types of flowers. Dipper pointed some out and told him what kind they were and then they sat in the grass while Wirt wrote. Dipper rested his head in Wirt's lap as he started a new entry in his Diary, trying to detail out the vibrant colors and calm breeze and fresh spring smell. The trees waved soothingly around them and Wirt swore that this was the most peaceful he'd ever been.

He looked at the faint remnants of the list on his arm.

Perk Nine: Spring Flowers Bursting With Life, Warmed Chest Bursting With Love

"What are you writing?" Dipper asked sleepily, looking at Wirt's arm from his resting place. Wirt blushed and pushed his sleeve back over his elbow, "uhm, personal poetry." Dipper smiled, "read it to me?" Wirt thought for a second, heart reminding him who the poems were about with its insistant pattering.

"Some day," Wirt promised and Dipper nodded, eyes falling shut again.

_Some day._

* * *

Some Day came sooner than expected.

Wirt's breath was hard against Dipper's shoulder, both of them smiling so hard they thought they'd puke (not again, please God). Their coach came up behind them, slapping them on the back with a gruff-happy, "good job, kids." Wirt's heart was beating so fast he thought it'd jump from his chest and run another few laps around the field. He felt sweat dry cold on his back, had an itch to take off his shirt right then and there in the middle of field. He restrained the urge, naturally. Dipper's fingers were warm and digging into his shoulder blade while his cheek brushed against Wirt's. This kind of close proximity could be played off as a heat-of-the-moment festiveness later.

The track team ran into the lockers whooping and high-fiving each other. One guy leaned over Dipper and said, "nice job you guys," motioning between both Wirt and Dipper and they smiled with a simultaneous, "thanks." They gave each other a look and then Dipper grabbed Wirt's arm and dragged him to their lockers. Wirt was beginning to feel the burn in his lungs and he panted as he told Dipper to, "slow down, Dip. Oh my God, what are you lungs made of. Iron?" Dipper just shrugged and then pulled Wirt into a hug, both of them wet and kind of gross smelling but that didn't stop Wirt from blushing to his ears. "Good game," Dipper said and then pulled away, beginning to open the lock on his locker.

Wirt sat down on a bench and took off his shoes, relishing in the way his feet felt approximately 10 pounds lighter. The shoes fell to the ground and Wirt got around to pulling off his shirt, the cloth way too uncomfortable to not take off. That fell to the ground too and Wirt opened his locker. He glanced over at Dipper and then adverted his glance just as quickly when he realized that the other boy was dressed down in nothing but his boxers. They were the felt, not that Wirt really needed to know that. Not that he minded. Ugh. Wirt sighed and rested his forehead against the cool metal of the locker door. Then he reached into his locker and took out a new shirt and realized that...it wasn't there? He frowned in confusion and looked into the locker. Nope, someone had totally nabbed his shirt and pants. "Hey Dip, do you have my clothes?" Wirt asked hopefully and Dipper laughed at the absurdity of the question. "No. I know we share a lot of stuff, but that's kinda pushing it." Wirt had assumed as much, which meant that someone had actually stolen his clothes. Great. If Wirt hadn't been so unlucky maybe he would have been mad. As it was, he was just a little annoyed.

Dipper peaked over at his locker, "why, did you forget your stuff?" Wirt sighed, "no, someone took my clothes." Dipper laughed, "What? Oh my god, really?" He reached underneath Wirt's—shirtless—arm and inspected the empty locker. "Crap, that sucks. You want to borrow my clothes?" Wirt blushed and shook his head, "oh, no it's cool. I'll uh, just wear my gym shirt." Dipper wrinkled his nose, "dude, it's all sweaty."

Wirt huffed, "well it's not like yours is better." Dipper waggled his eyebrows, "or is it? Come on, we both know that I'm not as affected by running. Just take my clean shirt and I'll be fine in my gym clothes." Dipper had a point, but still. Wirt was about to object again when Dipper threw his clean shirt in his face. Wirt looked down and oh, it was Dipper's favorite orange shirt. The fabric was soft—from being washed so many times—between his fingers.

"Thanks," Wirt said, extremely relived that he wouldn't smell like a humid attic for the rest of the day. He pulled the shirt over his head, unusually delicate, worried that he'd damage the cloth in some way. The shirt fit over him near perfectly and the feeling of the cloth against his skin felt...different? He couldn't really place the feeling. Subconsciously, he smelled the collar of the shirt and Dipper raised an eyebrow, smiling, "what?"

Wirt jumped, having forgotten that he was being watched and blushed, stuttering, "I-It's just. It uh, the shirt smells like you." Dammit, his mind was completely fried, apparently, "in a good way, of course. Like it just—" Wirt bit his tongue, worried over the increasingly embarrassing admissions. Dipper blushed too and stared at Wirt's new shirt, fighting between flushed and confused. "Uhm, oh." Dipper whispered kind of quietly, looking down at his hands, face stiflingly hot. Wirt already felt on fire, the shirt warm from Dipper's body heat and God, teen hormones were the worst thing to ever grace the planet of Earth.

Dipper glanced over at him and Wirt did the same and their eyes met. It felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Wirt felt worried and nervous but also really, really aroused because well...it was Dipper looking at him like that. Before Wirt really understood what was happening, he felt Dipper wrap his fingers around his arm and pull him. "Wha—?" Wirt started but shut up when Dipper pulled them both into a bathroom stall and locked the door. Now, these bathrooms were not the largest, and Wirt was pressed up against the blue wall as Dipper stared at him. His heart, oh god there went his heart again. Stupid thing.

"Dipper..what are you doing?" Wirt's breath felt hot against his own face, distinctly unused to how close Dipper's face was getting. Oh god, what if they were going to kiss? Memories from The Shower Incident flickered through his mind like an old film reel (pausing at all the inconvenient parts. "kiss me.") Wirt blinked, backing up against the wall a little further. By then, Wirt was basically a jumble of unstable hormones and chemicals and it felt that if Dipper so much as _touched_  him it'd set off some kind of explosion (combustion?) Dipper looked at him and then his hand reached up and—oh God, oh God, _oh God_ , where is his hand going?—touched his cheek, wiping a strand of hair behind Wirt's ear. Then his face was getting closer and Wirt was sure that he'd pass out.

"Dipper wait!" He said quickly, eyes clenched as he held up his hands. His skin felt _pink_ , if that was possible. Dipper pulled back slightly, looking worried. "Sorry!" Dipper said, hand dropping from Wirt's cheek. It felt chilly without it. Then Dipper withdrew completely, giving Wirt back his space. "Fuck, Wirt, I'm so sorry. I—I...I'll just go."

The bathroom lock clicked open and Dipper started to walk out when Wirt's hand shot forward and pulled him back. "Wait, just. Dipper, what are we?" The other boy looked back at him, uncertainty and pain but also something else in his face...Wirt swallowed. They'd been hesitating at a line between friendship and something more for months now. It was something that they didn't overstep, something that they pretended didn't exist. Now that line was being confronted. "I..."Dipper's hands tightened by his sides. "I like you a lot, Wirt. And I don't really know how to deal with it but, I like you more than a friend. A lot more."

The inferno in Wirt's cheeks lit up again, as if Dipper's words were gas. He was speechless. Dipper continued, "and I, well, it's cool if you don't feel the same way, like I understand, I mean, I don't even know if you like guys or—"

"I do." Wirt said hastily, finally finding the words to talk again, "I mean, I like you. you're the guy I like. Dipper, I uh, I really like you too." Dipper looked at him skeptically, "Wirt, you don't have to say that—"

"I'm not just saying it! I've had a crush on you basically ever since I met you. I've written countless poems, thought about you insistently and—" Wirt pulled up his sleeve, "I even have a list detailing out moments when being with you is basically the best thing in the world. You're...I'm..."

Wirt took a big breath, "will you be my boyfriend?"

"I...well, yeah, you dork!" Dipper laughed and it felt like the air had dispersed from the room, leaving nothing but them. Wirt smiled and his fingers slipped from the crook of Dipper's elbow to his hand. "Wait, really?" Wirt said, disbelieving at the thought that intelligent, attractive, sporty, amazing, friendly Dipper was saying yes. He felt something prick his eyes and it wasn't until Dipper looked worried did he notice that tears were dripping from his chin. He wiped his hand over his eyes, surprised. He realized that it was the first time he'd ever cried from joy.

"That's...awesome." Wirt said, smiling widely. Wirt blinked up at Dipper and wiped his eyes. "Can I uh, can I kiss you now?" Wirt asked and Dipper blushed and smiled, "uhm, y-yeah." Wirt stepped closer to Dipper, pushing him lightly against the blue wall of stall. He took a big breath and his fingers tangled in the cloth of Dipper's shirt. It felt familiar, as being with Dipper usually felt, but also like something new. Something that would change their relationship forever. Wirt hesitated for a second, knowing that if he kissed Dipper, the dynamics of their whole friendship would change. What if they weren't romantically compatible? What if they broke up and grew distant from each other?

Seeming to sense Wirt's internal battle, Dipper put his arms around Wirt's neck and pulled them closer, "it'll be okay."

"You're right."

 

 

  
And it was.


	3. Extra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Authors Note: Aww, you guys are sweet! Here's an extra! Sorry for the wait. School keeps one heavily occupied.]

* * *

> Come to me in my dreams, and then  
>  By day I shall be well again.  
>  For then the night will more than pay  
>  The hopeless longing of the day.
> 
> -Matthew Arnold (1822 1888) 

It was okay to some extent. Okay being the average of wonderful and horrible.

So maybe Wirt still stuttered over the word "boyfriend" like he was dancing it around the inside of his mouth. Maybe he blushed too much whenever Dipper was around or listened a little too hard when someone said his name. It happened fairly often and Wirt wondered when his boyfriend had become so popular. There wasn't really much to wonder about though. Dipper was charming, extremely smart, and exceedingly fit after his summer in Oregon and subsequent track practice. Maybe Wirt was nervous about where they stood.

That, he knew was true. Wirt was an anxious person by definition. If _Wirt_  was an entry in the dictionary, the words following it would be _anxiety-ridden, gloomy, dreamer, etcetera_. Point was, Wirt was worried about his and Dipper's relationship. It'd been a month after the confession in the boy's locker room—not exactly glamorous in nature, but somehow still romantic in the context—and things had stayed mostly the same. Eerily so, Wirt thought. They hadn't really talked about new rules (or whatever relationships had. Wirt had never been in one) or done anything different since then. No hand-holding, no kissing, no touching outside of the platonic norm. It wasn't like Wirt thought their relationship needed the extra contact (Wirt knew by now that he was somewhat asexual, but Dipper seemed to be the exception to that) but it was the absence of it that made him nervous. What if Dipper had changed his mind, realized that he didn't like Wirt the way he thought he did?

Bringing up the topic of their romantic standing proved difficult as well, as Wirt could never quite bring himself to say the words "we're dating" much less the words "kiss", "hug", or "do you want to go on a date?" The problem festered in his mind for weeks like a spooked crow; always starting up again right when he thought it had settled. The problem had only been getting worse though, now that Wirt thought about it, steadily cascading into something bad. He didn't want to bother Dipper with it though, not when tests and exams were coming up and Dipper was set on getting into Harvard. Dipper was Valedictorian, had a perfect (more than) GPA and was in more extracurriculars than Wirt was even sure there were clubs. He was a perfect fit to the shoe that was a polished, Ivy League school.

Wirt, on the other hand, had just published his first book, _Into the Unknown_ , and wasn't sure if he even wanted to go to college. Since the book was selling well, Wirt was considering just ditching college altogether and channeling his efforts into his writing. It wasn't like publishers hadn't asked yet.

Wirt tapped his pen on his notebook, suddenly finding that he couldn't write. He looked up from his lap towards the desk where Dipper was studying. When Wirt didn't know what to write he'd sometimes fill pages of notebook paper with descriptions of Dipper. His hair (the curls, the thin split-ends, the texture), his mouth (chapped lips, bite indents, torn skin off the side), his fingers (long, bony, blue veins along the back and up the elbows, chewed nails) along with an entrée of other traits Wirt enjoyed describing. He tore another filled page from his notebook and put it in the pile of papers next to him on the floor.

  
Dipper shifted in his chair, glaring at a the AP History packet in front of him, highlighters littered across the desktop. His eyes were dark underneath their sockets and he was chewing on the pen he was holding, ink staining the corners of his mouth. He'd been studying for hours now, muttering something about the test. Wirt sighed and leaned back on his hands, eyebrows curling a bit in concern. Dipper was a perfectionist to the highest degree and he would study for literal days before he was certain he knew all of the information and more. All of that did take a toll though and after he was done he'd usually sleep (pass out, was more appropriate) for a good 18 hours to recuperate. Wirt anticipated the crash to happen any minute now. He looked for the tell-tale signs: nodding of the head, elbow slipping from the desk, shirt sucking, eyes crossing, more muttering than usual.

Oh, there went the elbow. And the muttering.

Wirt stood up and brushed his lap free of loose paper bits before he walked over to Dipper and gently shook his shoulder. "Dipper, Dipper. You're falling asleep." His boyfriend mumbled something incoherent. Wirt persisted a little more, "come on, lets get you to bed. You've studied enough." With some difficulty, Wirt helped Dipper to his feet, arm curled around his shoulders, and led him to the bed. He collapsed on the covers and Wirt smiled a little at how Dipper curled up on the sheets. He got his blanket from his mattress on the floor (the one thing that changed happened to be their sleeping arrangement, much to Wirt's disappointment but understanding) and covered Dipper with it, making sure his feet weren't peeking out or anything. Dipper was instantly asleep.

Wirt shook his head with a faint laugh and then sat back down on the floor, picking up his notebook. Inspiration, maybe? A tale of a genius who worked until he exhausted himself and then some, eventually impairing his brain. Ironic, yes, but not enough. Wirt tapped his chin with his pen, staring down the blank piece of paper in front of him. He scribbled some things down, just to mar the page. _The light on top of the lighthouse went out, he's like a flower: tender, bruising, and almost dead, he cracked his head on the sidewalk of life, drunk on the high of eluding death_. No, no, no. Wirt groaned in despair and threw his notepad on the floor. His pen spun away under the bed. He buried his head in his hands, feeling tears prick his eyes like needles. It felt like all the months of anxiety were manifesting themselves into his writing, blocking his ideas, bubbling over his head like a scalding mind-anesthetic. He willed himself to calm down. Why now? He sobbed into the sleeves of his shirt and squeezed his eyes shut. He kept them clamped until he fell into a wary sleep.

* * *

 

Wirt woke up to the sound of someone saying his name. "Wirt," Dipper whispered, his body was warm against his side. Wirt blinked sleepily, rubbing his palms over his eyes. The room was dark and Wirt could barely make out the shape of Dipper in the darkness, only illuminated by the faint moonlight from the window. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice scratchy from sleep. Dipper licked his lips, shrugging, "I don't know. Late. what are you doing sleeping on the floor?" Wirt made a confused face and then realized that he was, in fact, on the floor. His mattress was by the bed, unused. "Oh, the blanket," Wirt said, suddenly remembering, "I didn't uh, have a blanket."

Dipper was suddenly the one who was confused before realization broke across his face, "you gave me your blanket." Wirt shrugged, suddenly feeling the chill in the air, determined not to show that he was cold. Dipper's hand was suddenly on his arm, soft and intensely warm. Wirt would have been lying if he said he didn't lean into it. Dipper was frowning though and that was never good. "Oh God, Wirt. You could have just pulled the blanket out from under me or shared with me. I don't want you to catch a cold out here." Wirt protested, "I'm not going to catch a cold." Dipper scoffed, "yeah right, and your arms don't feel like ice. You'd rather freeze than share a blanket with me?"

Wirt frowned because, no, that definitely wasn't true. "No, I just. I just didn't know if it would be okay." Dipper tilted his head, "what do you mean?" Wirt looked away from those shining, unwavering eyes, "I don't really...I didn't know if that was crossing a line or something." His boyfriend's eyebrows scrunched, "A line? Wirt, what are you talking about? We used to always sleep in the same bed." Wirt felt The Problem start to bubble up again, "yeah, used to. We don't do that anymore, remember? We don't do a lot of stuff anymore. Like you never pat my back or mess up my hair or want to wrestle anymore. I..." Wirt felt more stress-induced tears form in the corners of his eyes, "I don't even know if you still like me like... _that_  even though we're together."

Oh great, there they came. The tears started to drip down his cheeks slowly, like they were trying to slow their decent by fruitlessly trying to crawl up his cheeks again. His body felt cold except for the place where Dipper was touching him on his arm, warm and solid. Dipper looked at him like he was trying to make sense of a particularly confusing puzzle. Trying to cram pieces together only to find that they didn't fit. "Wirt, I don't think you know what you're talking about." For some reason that felt like a punch in the throat, knocked the air from Wirt's lungs like a cold breeze. What? There was a wave of shock, anger, sadness. " _I_  don't know what I'm talking about!?" Wirt said a little louder than he intended, yanking his arm from Dipper's grip as he stood up. "At least I'm not the one who says he likes someone romantically when it's obviously just a lie! At least I don't lead someone on for months when I'm actually straight." The tears blurred his vision but he saw Dippers concerned face during the seconds in-between blinking.

Wirt's fists shook at his side, his body felt like it was one tense line. A rigid block of contained lightning. Wirt had turned around and had started picking up his notebooks before he really knew what he was doing. He stuffed the papers into his backpack by the door, Dipper walking just behind him, saying things that Wirt wasn't capable of understanding at the moment. One second he was turning the doorknob and the next Dipper was holding him against the wall, fingernails biting into Wirt's wrists. "Wirt, you're not listening to me," Dipper said, tears shining against his cheeks. Wirt's mind seemed to clear a little at that, brown eyes staring at the tears on his boyfriend's skin. He wanted to wipe them off, make it better. His heart thudded against his ribcage, "Dipper." He whispered it like it was a revelation. Dipper wiped his cheek on his shoulder and stared back at him, "I didn't lie. I like you Wirt, in a way I've never liked anyone before. I wouldn't lie about that. I wouldn't lie to you, ever." Wirt felt a chill run up his body like the electricity in those circuit boards he and Dipper made for their Robotics club competition. This time it wasn't from the cold. "I'm sorry," he said, arms going limp in Dipper's grip, "I'm sorry I said those things. I was just worried. I—" he stopped, looking at his feet. Exhaustion was taking the place of the anger.

"Worried about what?" Dipper asked, concern etched into the very vibrations of his voice. Wirt loved that, the way it felt so tangible, like he could touch Dipper's voice, thread it through his fingers if he wanted to. He shook his head, not wanting to admit to his nightmarish daydreams. A hand ran up his cheek, wiping away the drops that had failed to fall all the way down his cheeks. "Wirt, please," there was an edge of desperation there, like a butterknife with one sharp tooth. Wirt swallowed, "I don't know what you want. I don't know if you want us to hold hands or if you want to kiss or...I don't know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. I'm afraid I'll mess it up because I've never done this before and I really don't want to mess this up with you." He said the last part quietly, barely pushing the words past his lips, like they were stuck to the back of his teeth.

Dipper pulled back a little so that they could look at each other. "Wirt, we're best friends. You shouldn't be afraid to tell me if something like this is bothering you. You're upset that we don't do, well, romantic things? I thought that you were asexual so I didn't want to pressure you with our relationship." Dipper scratched the back of his neck nervously, "I didn't know if you were even interested in holding hands or doing other stuff. I mean, you never mentioned it so I just figured you didn't want to." Wirt blinked at him owlishly, mouth hanging open a bit. How could he have been so selfish? Of course Dipper had been respectful in honoring his preferences (said preferences definitely included kissing Dipper though) and Wirt hadn't even thought of that.

"Oh," he said, the end of the sound decaying into a waver. He was relived, but simultaneously guilty for blaming Dipper. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you remembered...I...thank you." He felt an enormous rush of affection for Dipper, a waterfall of warmth flooding through him. He was off the wall and hugging Dipper in a heartbeat, hands clasped tightly around Dipper's shoulders, pulling him close. Dipper's smelled like book dust, the slightly vanilla scent of pen ink, and sheet cleaner. "Hey, it's okay," Dipper said, a laugh on his lips as one of his hands went around to rest on Wirt's back. Wirt pulled back slightly, hands still balled in the other's T-shirt, "I want to do that stuff with you. That, you know, romantic stuff. I've never wanted to but you—" he paused "—you're different. You're amazing."

Dipper blushed so hard his ears looked pink in the darkness, "O-Oh. Really?" Wirt nodded and then let go of Dipper's t-shirt, a little embarrassed at how he'd basically just squeezed his Boyfriend's ribcage inwards. Dipper held onto his hand though when their fingers brushed though and the mad beat started up in Wirt's chest and he wondered if he could ever get used to the feeling of heartburn.

"Wirt, I don't want to do anything wrong either because this relationship—Us—is really important to me. I want to make sure that you're comfortable with everything that we do. I'm sorry that I didn't talk about it with you. I'm glad that you want to uhm, do that stuff we me too because I've wanted to for a long time." His palms felt humid and _hot_  in Wirt's. "I'm the most comfortable when I'm with you," Wirt promised, knees feeling weak with the insistent heat that seemed to be bearing though is body.

"We should talk more, I know that. I'm sorry about being so busy with schoolwork and stuff, Wirt. I know that we barely get to hang out anymore and when we do I'm just studying. I'm sorry—" Dipper muttered, the teary-sound creeping into the words. "Dipper, I want you to get into the school you want to and I know that you can do it. I don't want to stop you from doing anything you want to. I just like being with you. I'm sorry that I got so worked up, I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I was just stressed." Dipper shook his head. "No, you were right," Dipper said adamantly, "I'm really glad you told me."

There was a pause and Wirt fully realized the situation. They were staring at each other, Wirt pushed up against the wall, hands twisted together, moonlight filtering through the room from the window. He felt another shiver run up his arms and he wondered if Dipper could feel his fingertips tremble. "Want to go to bed? I mean, not like _that_  I mean, unless you wanted to? I meant to sleep though because uhm, we have school tomorrow and..." Dipper trailed off, pulling away slightly, an embarrassed blush staining his face. Wirt nodded, his brown bangs falling in his face a little as he looked anywhere but at Dipper. Dipper walked over to his bed and climbed on top of it, pulling up the (Wirt's) blanket. Wirt stopped at the foot of the bed, unsure if he was supposed to sleep on the mattress or not. Not wanting to push his luck, he lay down on the mattress, wondering if Dipper would remember to give him back his blanket or...

"Oh," Dipper said, "I thought that uhm, maybe we could share the bed? I mean, if you wanted to. If that's not cool then that's totally okay I just—"

Wirt felt another rush of warmth, "no, that's cool." He picked up his pillow and climbed onto the bed, feeling the mattress dip underneath his knees. He looked down at Dipper, lying down on the bed, blanket up against his knees. It did feel different, like the air was heavy, but not it a bad way. It felt like there was something there. Something that wanted to be acknowledged. They stared at each other before the heat rose to Wirt's neck and he lifted the blanket, sliding under it. Their feet brushed under the covers and they both flinched initially, like the touch had burned in some way. They both quickly whispered "sorry" and then stayed on their side of the bed, facing away from each other. Wirt closed his eyes and willed himself to just sleep because for some reason his breathing felt too loud and every movement he made felt amplified.

He heard Dipper shift next to him and he tried not to think about it. Tried not to think of the fact that for some reason being in the same bed as Dipper suddenly made his skin flare up and stomach settle into something uneasy and intense. He was doing okay (a vague "ehhhh" sound) until he heard Dipper say, "thanks for helping me into bed after I fell asleep on the desk. Also, thanks for the blanket." Wirt felt Dipper's breath against his neck, which meant that Dipper was facing him in the bed and was probably pretty close. Wirt body froze, torn between wanting to move backwards against Dipper and feeling overwhelmed with nerves. "Ye-Yeah, no problem," he stuttered, electricity thrumming through his bloodstream consistently now. He felt the blankets pull slightly, felt them rubbing against his skin. In an act of some new-fond courage, Wirt rolled around on the bed so that he was facing Dipper, their faces so close he could see every one of Dipper's eyelashes.

"Dipper, I want," his voice faltered, hot breath on his hands, "I want to kiss you."

His heart gave a nervous squeeze, like a fist was clenching around it (Metaphors are poetic, right?) Dipper blinked once, the air between them was stifling. Wirt was pretty sure that between the two of them, Dipper was more experienced, but that wouldn't stop him from trying (hopefully before his anxiety caught up with him and told him, in a stern voice, "don't even _think_  about doing that. You'll just mess it up.") Dipper stared at him, a little apprehensive, "are you sure? Wirt, we don't have to rush things." Wirt shook his head, "I want to. Like, want to with incomparable adjectives want to." Dipper laughed a little and whispered "oh my god" quietly into the darkness. "I'm pretty sure this is a dream," Dipper said mostly to himself before he turned back to Wirt, "you have no idea how many times I dream about kissing you. Frankly, it's a little embarrassing." Wirt's breath caught. Dipper had thought about it? Thought— _dreamt—_ about kissing him? Wirt wanted to yell or throw his hands up with fistfuls of confetti. Wirt moved his hand so that it was resting on Dipper's cheek, just barely there, fingers touching his bangs. Dipper smiled into it, turning his head just a little to press his lips to the skin of Wirt's wrist.

Wirt gasped a little, shocked and definitely turned on, as his fingers curled in a little instinctually. There went another shiver up his spine. "Okay, okay. Get your mouth up here," Wirt said with less preamble than usual. Dipper just grinned mischievously at him—the kind of look that meant Wirt was going to get horribly pranked—and looked at his pants. "You sure, I mean, since I'm down here already..."

Wirt made a chocked sound and wow, welcome to the party Downstairs Wirt. He glared at Dipper because, really, _what kind of bed etiquette was that?_  but was stopped when Dipper finally looked up and moved closer, their mouths so close Wirt cold smell the menthol on the other's lips. "I don't want to forget this," Dipper says as he reaches out to touch Wirt, like he's still not sure if he's real.

"You won't" Wirt says and he's not sure if it's a promise or plain hope.

Dipper nods and his shaking hand curls in Wirt's hair, bringing their lips together. The pillow is soft beneath Wirt's head, but if he had to chose between it and Dipper's lips, there wouldn't have been a competition. See, it wasn't that hisDipper's lips were smooth—they were chapped to Hell, frankly—no, they were soft because they were so light that Wirt could barely feel them at first. Then they were really on his and real and hot. Wirt gasped into the kiss, his hands folding into Dipper's curly hair and their legs brushed under the covers.

In-between breaths Dipper murmured, "oh my God, Wirt—" breath "—you have no idea how much I've wanted to—" kiss "—do this. You're always so _attractive_ , writing with that distant, distracted—" gasp "—look on your face. Fuck, your hands." Dipper practically moaned the last bit and Wirt had a hard time holding back one as well (as in: he didn't.) God, if kissing got him this hot and bothered, Wirt couldn't even fathom anything beyond it. Especially if Dipper was going to be this vocal. His pants already felt uncomfortable but he didn't want to do anything with it if it meant a stop in the kissing process.

Wirt's knee shifted a little higher up Dipper's thigh and Dipper bit down on Wirt's neck, hard, groaning into the skin. Wirt wasn't surprised that Dipper was already hard. They were teenagers with more than two years of sexual tension under their belts (literally). Besides, it wasn't like Wirt was appalled by anatomy. It's just that he didn't usually have the urge to touch certain pieces of anatomy. Right now was not one of those times.

Wirt's hand traveled down Dipper's sides to the front of his pants, fingers lightly touching the waistband. Dipper stopped kissing him for a second to stare, "you wouldn't," Dipper said and it sounded like a challenge if Wirt had ever heard one. "Try me," Wirt smiled back as his hand slipped to the zipper, slowly undoing it with a loud _click-click-click_. Dipper rolled his hips slightly, already strung high on hormones, panting. All of that was making it very difficult for Wirt to concentrate on what he was doing. He pushed the pants down a little, enough so that the red of Dipper's boxers was easily visible. "Is this okay?" he asked, just to be sure. Dipper made a frustrated sound and nodded desperately, "yeah, yeah. _Wirt_."

Wirt smiled and ran his hand over the front of Dipper's boxers, grinning when Dipper ground against his hand. "Remember that time in the shower?" Wirt asked and Dipper made a confused sound, _which time?_  "The time we were drunk. I think about it a lot." Dipper panted, "yeah? what do you think about?" Wirt continued to palm Dipper through the cloth and said, "I imagine that we're a little less drunk, a little less dressed. We're making out in the the stream of water, backs pressed against the marble, skin humid from the steam. I think about touching your skin, over and over. Your shoulders, neck, spine. I'd count every vertebra under my fingertips. Trace out every muscle." Wirt drew a circle with his free hand against his boyfriend's stomach and Dipper let out a shuttering breath, toes curling inwards. Wirt felt a little bit of pride for causing that kind of reaction.

"Wirt," Dipper said sharply, his stomach trembling under Wirt's hand. "Tell me what you want," Wirt smiled, getting off on Dipper's voice way more then he thought he would. Dipper panted in frustration but talked, "You, Wirt, I want you. The closer the better, preferably. Like hand-on-my-dick close would be nice if you weren't such a tease."

"I suppose hand jobs would could be considered a perk."

"What?"

"Nothing," Wirt said simply and reached under the elastic of Dipper's boxers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Authors Note: I really enjoy writing this so Extra might not be the end of this story. It's such a stress-reliever. Thanks for all of the Kudos and Comments! Much loved. Also, my Tumblr is unwoundclock.tumblr.com if you're interested in sending me ideas or just wanna chat. ]


	4. Extra 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Authors Note: Okay, after a long break, another extra! This is taken place around 2 years after the previous chapters.]

* * *

 

> _here is the deepest secret nobody knows_
> 
> _(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_  
>  _and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows_  
>  _higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)_  
>  _and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart_
> 
> _i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)_
> 
> _-e. e. cummings_

Wirt felt his breath leave him as he walked onto the stage, a ring of light illuminating him from the rafters above. The clapping and murmurs slowly settled as he took his place in front of the microphone, staring out into the rows of people before him. His throat went dry but his fingers tightened around the books in his grip. The covers of _Into the Unknown_  and _The Author of Gravity Falls_  felt comforting in his palm. Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd accomplished, had led up to this. This shinning concert hall filled with similarly shinning people.

And suddenly Wirt was scared.

You see, Wirt did not consider himself a very good public speaker. Yes, ever since his book _Into the Unknown_  had become a bestseller he'd had to attend a few get togethers, but they had been nothing compared to this. There were no dingy paper cups filled with cheap coffee here. No fans with cheery smiles and handmade, sewn-together costumes of his characters. Here there were people in glittering dresses and tailored tuxes carrying handbags that looked like they'd cost half of Wirt's lifesavings. They were here to listen to him. To listen to a kid just out of high school, fidgeting in a grey cardigan. He felt his hand tighten around the microphone as he cleared his throat.

"So, hi." He said shyly and the crowd erupted back into loud applause. Whistles echoed in the concert hall and Wirt felt his cheeks flush. He took a breath. He smiled bashfully and waited for the clapping to quiet a little before continuing.

"Wow. It's a huge, huge honor to be here tonight. I cannot express in any form of metaphorical comparison or list of adjectives just how truly amazing this is. When I wrote _The Author of Gravity Falls_  I did not expect for it to be a bestseller, much less a Nobel Prize winner. It still doesn't sound real." Wirt paused, sure that there were tears in his eyes. Why else would they feel so full? He looked out into the audience and saw the glint of cameras on him. He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and tried to grasp his composure again. "There are so many people who have inspired me. My mom and stepdad, my high school English teacher, my brother. Random people walking down streets, living lives that are somehow parallel to mine. I want to thank my boyfriend and wonderful companion, Dipper, who has been with me since I started high school and continues to be by me. He's currently attending Harvard University in Cambridge so he probably won't be here tonight, but if you're watching Dipper, thanks for being my unending spring of creativity and ideas. The book _The Author of Gravity Falls_ was nearly solely inspired by him and I'm forever thankful for his creativity." Wirt's eyes watered up again and he had to pause to wipe his eyes again, blushing, "sorry. I'd also like to thank all of you readers. Every one of you who has picked up my books and decided to explore a new world. You're all adventurers and you're the ones who make pieces of my fantasy become reality. Thank you for that."

He thanked the hosts and the audience again, voice surer than he felt. 

Unsure of what to do next, Wirt bowed and the halls suddenly erupted in claps, cheers, and whistles.

A man in a black suit walked onto the stage and shook Wirt's hand heartily before pressing a round medal into it. The man took the microphone, "Let's give another warm congratulations to Wirt, who is one of the youngest authors to ever win the Nobel Prize."

The clapping continued, louder, and Wirt saw whole rows of people stand up from their seats as they applauded him. He felt emotion building in his throat. He said _thank you_ again and again and again and then shakily walked off the stage, clutching both his books and the medal in his sweaty palms. The whole situation felt unreal, like a dream. He walked into the room that the staff had set aside for him and closed the door behind him, sighing in relief as he leaned against it. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been until he tried to relax his muscles and they resisted painfully. "Ow, God," Wirt muttered and then set down the medals and books on the dresser. _You did it Wirt, you did it._  The apprehension that had been following him around for a few days was replaced by a flicker of happiness. It warmed his blood to the point where he was able to sink into the couch next to him and breathe properly. Euphoria set in. The only thing that could make this better was if Dipper was there. Dipper. Wirt fished his mobile from his cardigan pocket and stared at it for a few seconds before he flipped it open and stared at his contacts.

Dipper's number was saved under the admittedly cheesy contact name "My Best Adventure." Wirt bit the inside of his cheek and worried over whether or not Dipper had a class at 7 PM. Wirt knew that Dipper's Advanced Engineering Math course was at 6 PM but maybe the class had ended already...He took a breath as his thumb hovered over the green call button.

Before he could press it, the screen lit up and vibrated. "Wha—Shoot," Wirt fumbled the phone before he managed to hold it lopsidedly to his ear, plastic pressing into his cheek. "Yes, hello?" Wirt asked quietly into the receiver, hand clutched around the small phone in his hand.

All nervousness left him when he heard a familiar, "Wirt! Dude, you did amazing out there. Holy crap, everybody was cheering so hard and crying. I definitely cried. Jesus. I'm so, so proud of you. You did great up there." Wirt smiled and pressed the phone closer to his cheek, as though that would bring him closer to Dipper. He wanted nothing more than to pull his boyfriend onto his lap and sink into his arms. "Dipper," Wirt managed to breathe out, "thank you so much. I was so nervous. Did you see it on TV?"

There was a pause with static and some distant voices before Dipper's came back, "Well...I didn't see it on TV."

"Oh." Wirt said, simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Dipper hadn't heard Wirt's speech about him.

"No, not like that. I mean I saw it but—well—this was supposed to be a surprise but I'm kind of lost and people keep taking pictures of me. I'm outside of the concert hall. I watched you from the second row. Wow. Wirt, you did great out there. I love you."

Wirt froze for a second in pure shock before his consciousness collected itself enough to stand up abruptly and start walking out of the room before his mind had played catch-up. Wirt sputtered, "y-you're here? But what about your classes today?" Wirt ran down a few flights of stairs, not caring about how odd he must look with red cheeks, a librarian-fashioned cardigan, and a phone pressed so hard against his cheek it was sure to make an imprint.

"Well, I decided that this was more important. I mean, it's not every day your boyfriend wins a Nobel Prize. I wasn't going to miss that, Wirt." In the background Wirt heard someone say "Mr.Pines, how does it feel to be the boyfriend of one of the most famous literary authors of our generation?" to which Dipper replied "I'm not taking any questions, sorry." Wirt smiled and stumbled into the main hall, pushing the door open a little too hard. He looked around for a second before his eyes landed on the handsome figure of his boyfriend standing in the middle of a crowd of journalists and curious individuals. Dipper always attracted a lot of attention, no matter where he was. Wirt adored that quality, perhaps because he was usually so easy to over-look. Wirt straightened his clothes a bit so he didn't look completely insane and then walked over towards the crowd. He looked down in the hope that some of the journalists would miss him but no such luck. A man ran up to him with a notepad, "Is there going to be a sequel to you novel, _The Author of Gravity Falls?"_  Someone else came up to him and asked, "Are the rumors about you going to Oxford true?" Behind him, another voice asked, "How did you get to be so amazing at writing? Do you have any tips?" Wirt opened his mouth and then closed it again, the multiple questions overwhelming him. He wasn't as good at public speaking like Dipper was. He looked at his shoes and tried to slowly disappear, "I'm not...I don't..."

"He's a mysterious person," Dipper said as he jogged up to Wirt. He took Wirt's hand and then waved to the journalists, "sorry, that's all for tonight. A person needs their space, you know?" The cameras were dejectedly lowered as Wirt's hand curled over Dipper's tighter and dragged him towards his room. They stumbled up the stairs together, laughing breathlessly as they tripped into Wirt's room. Wirt slammed the door and Dragged Dipper onto the carpet, breathing so hard he was sure Dipper could hear every hitch in his voice. His fingers sunk into Dipper's dress shirt and he looked up at Dipper lightheartedly, "I can't remember ever seeing you get this dressed up." He looked over Dipper's Navy suit and white collared shirt. He was even wearing some kind of cologne that was most definitely driving Wirt a bit insane. Wirt rested his face against his boyfriend's shoulder, breathing in the sweet-natural smell—like christmas cedar—before he looked up and kissed Dipper on the cheek. "You're amazing for coming all the way from Cambridge for this." Dipper squeezed Wirt's hand harder, "you're definitely the amazing one for writing such a great book." Wirt hummed noncommittally, distracted for a second by how unlawfully good Dipper looked in a suit.

"You look really nice in a suit," Wirt commented quietly, placing a kiss on the side of Dipper's throat, just above the collar of his shirt. The skin there jumped when Dipper spoke. "Yeah?" Dipper laughed as he leaned back a little to give Wirt more room. More skin was generally a very good thing. Wirt nodded, letting his hands run up the silky sides of the cloth. He crawled on top of Dipper and leaned down to kiss him, eyes fluttering shut as Dipper's hand dragged up his neck into his hair. God that felt amazing every time.

Since their first night together, they'd quickly realized that Wirt enjoyed lighter touches on his arms, legs, face, anywhere, really, other than places directly beneath his belt. While he didn't have any qualms on touching Dipper _there_ , he just didn't find it pleasurable himself. Wirt knew hey had a pretty good thing going on. He sat up and Dipper grinned, "what? I know that look in your eye Wirt. See something you like?" The pure amount of flirtatiousness Dipper could inject into a single sentence was stunning, literally Knock-You-Off-Your-Feet swoon inducing.

"You're wearing a lot of clothes," Wirt commented vaguely.

"I thought you liked the clothes," Dipper retaliated cheekily.  
  
Wirt frowned slightly because he was fairly certain that Dipper knew exactly what he meant. "I do. I just kind of want to...not feel your clothes right now." _You. I want to feel you._  Dipper smiled—God, that cheery, open smile did things to Wirt—and brought his hands up to his collar. "Oh, really?" Dipper slowly twisted the first button open, revealing more of his throat. His fingers edged down to the second button, unfairly long fingers pulling the buttons free from the cloth easily. Wirt's heart felt like it stopped. Flatlined. His hands fisted Dipper's overcoat like it would give him something to hold onto. The worst part about having a hot boyfriend who _knew_  that they were hot was that teasing was a common happening in their relationship. Wirt was a sucker for teasing. Then again, he was a sucker for everything Dipper did. From the adventurer to the troublemaker to the math genius to the flirty charmer. He loved everything.

"God, you always do this to me." Wirt hung his head for a second before he looked back to where Dipper was still undoing the buttons of his shirt. "It's like I can't find the words to understand you and therefore you are always a curiosity to me. An area 51 of the mind. Oh crap, that was bad. Sorry." Dipper shivered beneath him, "that wasn't bad. Fuck, Wirt, it's like you don't know what kinds of incredible things you do to me. What your words do." Dipper finished undoing the last button on his shirt and sat up, face on-par with Wirt's. "I like it when you talk. Makes me really, really hot. I—I don't really know how express it very well but..." Dipper brought Wirt's hand to newly unclothed chest. "I like it."

Wirt made a sound at those words—what sound? Who knows—and leaned forward on Dipper's lap to kiss his boyfriend. Dipper gasped at the friction and sloppily opened his mouth, the flat of his tongue covering its bases on the back of Wirt's teeth. Wirt always tasted like caramel drops. Always. Dipper tilted his head to get closer and Wirt pressed his hand to Dipper's exposed stomach. Dipper shivered again in Wirt's hands, subconsciously remembering all of those times years ago when he had looked over at them and wondered what they felt like. Now he knew. He knew very, blissfully, well.

"How long are you staying?" Wirt asked softly as he pulled away, that subtle yet ambitious tone of voice quickly melting Dipper's will to ever leave. He didn't want to go. He wanted to take Wirt with him.

"Tonight. Well, tomorrow. At 5 AM. My Psychology mid-term is tomorrow at 4 PM. The plane takes a while." Wirt nodded understandingly in a way Dipper regretted. Felt guilty about. "I'm sor—" Dipper started but Wirt interrupted with "hey, it's cool. I just want to get you out of your clothes. Maybe even give you something to think about other than your test tomorrow." Wirt dropped his voice and Dipper knew that he wouldn't be thinking about a test anytime soon (DSM what?). Just his boyfriend's hot skin, fuzzy-rough cardigan, charmingly brave yet good natured eyes. The almost-crescents Wirt's nail-bitten hands left on Dipper's arms and shoulders. Wirt's hands ran down over Dipper's stomach towards the zipper on his jeans, finger tracing the clasped seam. "Yeah?" Wirt asked and "yes" was on Dipper's tongue before he held it back, remembering what he'd wanted to do. "No, Wirt. Tonight's your night. I'm—I wanted to focus on you tonight. Please."

Wirt fumbled for something to do with his hands for a second, his palm still hovering over the front of Dipper's jeans, his fingers already tugging the pants down. "Uh, what?" Dipper laughed and then shifted out from underneath Wirt, pressing Wirt down into the carpet floor instead. "So I know how much you _like_  poetry," Dipper started, carding his fingers through Wirt's soft yet untamed hair, "I've been practicing."

"Oh, yeah?" Wirt asked a little breathlessly, heat already seeping into his cheeks. Dipper nodded, "yeah, been practicing in Greek Lit. I know how much you like a good sonnet and verse."

Wirt stared at Dipper's lips, already half-way enraptured by words he had yet to hear. He closed his mouth, which he'd just then realized had been open. The reaction caused Dipper to blush but he continued. "I come with a dream in my eyes tonight, And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—Open to me! For I will show you the places Nobody knows, And, if you like, The perfect places of Sleep." By the end of the verse, Dipper was bright red but still steadfast with his words. Wirt felt his heart beat against his chest loudly. Like it was making a racket on purpose. He cracked a shaky smile, "oh, so you're using poetry to woo me?"

Dipper shrugged and Wirt wanted to cry again because he was so lovely, sitting there, quietly contemplating and sifting through words in his head. "Maybe?"

Wirt grinned and then recited, "I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart, I am never without it, anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling."

Dipper's eyes widened and then he stumbled over the next verse, "no fate, for you are my fate, my sweet, I want no world, for beautiful you are my world, my true, and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you."

Wirt raised an eyebrow, wondering how it was possible to fall in love with one person so many times, "That. Was impressive." Dipper let out a relieved breath, "oh God, that was scary. I only happened to read _I Carry Your Heart_  by chance. It was okay?"

Wirt nodded sagely, "it was very good. Very, very, very..." Wirt dropped the serious look and wrapped his legs around Dipper's waist, pulling him closer. "You know, that was kind of romantic." They stared at each other for second then the rest of Dipper's clothes were quickly shucked off. Dipper tugged off his jeans as Wirt shoved his cardigan and shirt over his head, detangling himself from his knitted clothing. Once Wirt was down to his felt boxers and Dipper was down to his silk ones (the other ones chafed, goddammit) Wirt wondered why exactly he didn't just move to Cambridge so he could see Dipper all the time. _The money,_  a realistic part of him said. _He has to focus on his studies._ It was true. Wirt was happy with just having Dipper near him now when he probably needed him the most. That's what he told himself at least, alone back in their sleepy hometown, staring into the darkness alone at night.

Dipper seemed to read his face. "I can stay," he offered and Wirt shook his head. "No, I want you to finish your studies at Harvard. I want you to accomplish what you've always strived for. We both know how hard you've worked for it."

"I don't want to leave you again, Wirt. Whenever I get onto a plane heading for Cambridge I feel like I'm losing you. I'm losing your comfort, your smart banter, your gestures. I don't want to lose you."

"You're not losing me. You're in my head, in my books, the tale behind my eyes."

Dipper looked thoughtful for a moment before he whispered the saying "If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die."

Wirt smiled a little wryly, fingers curling in Dipper's hair. "I'll miss you."

Dipper slowly nodded, "I'll miss you too. I always do." 

 

* * *

 

The alarm clock on Dipper's phone went off at 4 AM and he sat up, sliding the alarm off as he looked over to where Wirt was cradling Dipper's side. Still asleep. Wirt had always been a deep sleeper. Dipper ran his palm over the skin of boyfriend's arm and then stood up, gently unwrapping Wirt's arms from his waist. He blinked at the bright light coming from the window and collected his clothes from the ground, pulling on his crumpled shirt and pants. He found his socks under the couch. He checked his phone for the time and wondered how long it would take a taxi to get the airport. He sighed, flicking the power button off as he got ready to leave. 

He turned around at the doorframe, admiring his boyfriend's body draped haphazardly over the couch cushions. He wanted to stay. He always did. 

Dipper took a breath and then picked up a piece of crumpled paper from the ground (Wirt always had scraps lying around). He smoothed it and then wrote

> _“Nothing makes a room feel emptier than wanting someone in it.”_  
>  _―[J](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1730299.J)_

He glanced one more time at the figure of his boyfriend draped across the couch, arms spread over the cushions haphazardly, before leaving the room. He arrived at his plane gate ten minutes before liftoff and took his seat next to a professional-looking lady with a carry-on laptop.  The ghost of a sigh stuck to Dipper's lips all day long, rendering Dipper unable to think of anything except for Wirt's face. The disappointed look he'd have when he realized that Dipper had left. The test went fine but Dipper barely remembered taking it. His mind had been elsewhere. As he walked into his dorm room he was suddenly desperate for Wirt's hand in his. 

His hand curled into a fist but it wasn't the same. Nothing could substitute for the warmth of Wirt's fingers curled around his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Authors Note: If time permits, there will probably be more. Not quickly, but perhaps when I'm in the mood.]  
> Poets: You Are Tired - e.e. cummings \ Mik Everett


	5. We Pretend to Be Storytellers

 

* * *

>   
>  “I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.”  
>  ― Salvador Plascencia, The People of Paper

Dipper was a perfectionist.

Ever since high school that had been a stationary truth. He never got less than a 100% on tests, he couldn't even fathom it without breaking out in a hot-cold sweat. His fingers would twitch if a letter on his paper went off the edge or if his conclusion to an essay was exactly how he'd imagined it inside of his head. He'd shake while taking tests because the pressure of getting _everything right_  sometimes left him feeling sick and stressed. He'd almost fainted during his SAT test but had gotten in the 99th percentile in everything. Almost 100, almost. Wirt told him that he was the best and that had helped a little, but not fully. He'd still gotten into Harvard, full ride, which had been a relief. The day he received the letter in the mail—stamped with a red blot the size of a dime on the front of the vanilla-tan envelope—he'd walked straight to Wirt's house and pulled his boyfriend into a hug and cried and cried because he'd been all nerves and jitters the last couple of weeks and he felt bad for pulling Wirt through all of it with him. Wirt hadn't minded though and just congratulated him extensively, taking him out to their favorite restaurant that evening to celebrate. He'd been all big smiles and soft, red blushes and hands that waved around enthusiastically like fireworks.

Dipper loved his boyfriend. Loved him so much that his hands felt empty unless they were holding onto the scratchy-warm sleeves of Wirt's sweater or holding his hand like a two-piece jigsaw puzzle.

Wirt was absolutely lovely, you see. Like a blast of sunshine and the feeling of a warm cabin. He was all librarian smell and comforting like home. His face was pale but lively and timid and strong. Wirt was a contradiction in nature, someone impossible to find out, yet familiar in a way Dipper couldn't explain. Dipper was nineteen and too in love for his own good. It was only not good because he couldn't see his boyfriend enough, and his empty-feeling hands were beginning to get him down more times than not. He carried books everywhere. Books with his boyfriend's name printed across the covers in modest, pretty fonts and covers soft with wear. He slept with them under his pillow just because sometimes that made him feel better, closer. He wondered if Wirt missed him as much as well. If he was a similar, aching wound.

Dipper wasn't poetic though. He couldn't spin out romantic and melancholy tales and sonnets and laments like Wirt could. He wasn't good at expressing himself, always too jumbled to get anything out right. It was hard, it was awful. He took advanced linear algebra without blinking an eye but struggled when it came to writing Wirt a heartfelt letter. _It should come easy,_  he berated himself, _you love him so much._  Yet the movies had lied and nothing came out.

_I think about your hands a lot. Your eyes are like marbles. Dots._  Fuck. That really wasn't what was inside of his head at all. When he closed his eyes he saw Wirt, somehow impossible to get perfect.  Dipper signed and pushed his pencil and notebook to the side, ignoring the questioning look his roommate gave him. His roommate's name was Jason Funderberker and he was an awkwardly quiet, but overall friendly, kind of guy. They weren't exactly friends but they got along alright. Jason raised an eyebrow and Dipper said "sorry" as pulled on his shoes so he could sulk outside of their dorm room. "You going outside?" Jason asked and Dipper nodded. "Yeah, I need some air."

Jason stood up, awkwardly putting his quantum engineering book down on the floor, and fiddled around with his jacket as he got up the courage to talk. A lot of people had some social quirks at Harvard. "I, uh, are you in a relationship? Like with someone?" He said it fast like he was nervous.

Dipper blinked, working the question through his brain. It went slowly, like manually processing binary. He was a very private kind of person and someone asking about his romantic life was highly unusual. Yes, sometimes he was hit on or asked out but it was never this _awkward_  and he was always able to slip away with a big laugh and a "sorry, I have to go." His and Wirt's relationship was still fairly secret (Wirt's award ceremony was the only time it was public, and even that was kept on the down-low. Wirt's producer wasn't a big fan of teen magazine appearances). Nobody seemed to connect stern, excessively studious Dipper Pines with the happy, oddly at ease man that had been on the television screen. Carefree, happy Dipper was almost only exclusively out when he was near Wirt. He couldn't exactly escape his roommate forever though. Dipper deliberated for a second and then said, "I am." Jason said "oh" and there was another purely awkward few seconds where they both had nothing to say. Jason rubbed his arm and then said, "is it a girl or..."

Dipper frowned, "Would it be weird if it wasn't a girl?"

Jason flushed red and held up his hands, his eyes wide and apologetic, "no, no. Of course not. It wouldn't be weird at all. Sorry, I was just curious."

_Curious_? Dipper shrugged that off promptly and gave a forced smile. "Yeah, well. I'm just going to go outside." Jason blushed again and Dipper quickly grabbed his backpack and slipped out the door, leaving that awkward conversation for good, hopefully. He walked around the campus pond, in the middle of the park, and stared at the ducks wading by the watery grass. He pulled his journal—red and tattered around the edges—from his backpack and flipped past numerous detailed pictures of monsters and oddities until he got to the back of the book. The pages he reserved for information on Wirt alone. No, Wirt wasn't a demon or a ghost or a werewolf, but he puzzled Dipper about the same. More. Wirt deserved a page for himself, all somehow not-right sketches and little facts in Dipper's messy scrawl. _He likes to drink chocolate milk but only cold. He loves snakes so much. Especially corn snakes. Bluebirds make him sad for some reason. His brother calls him at least once a week. He loves but is scared of forests._  Dipper leaned back against the bench he was sitting on. He fished his phone from his pocket and stared at the time 2:50 pm. Wirt wasn't going to be out of his press conference for at least another ten minutes. Dipper chided himself for being so clingy and put away his journal, fishing out his history biographies instead. He skimmed the pages but he'd already read all of the readings twice so they weren't as interesting. Disgruntled, Dipper stuffed all of the papers back into his bag and made his way over to the music building. He checked in and walked towards his empty room.

As he was about to turn the door handle, a girl running from down the hallway came up to him, red in the face. Dipper vaguely remembered her from his jazz class. She smiled at him excitedly, "oh, Dipper! You won't believe this! That one famous author—you know, the _Author_ guy—is at our school. He might be giving a talk in the auditorium. Everything is crazy down there." Dipper might have said something, he wasn't sure, and she ran down the hallways. He stood in the doorway for a few more seconds, stunned, before he collected himself enough to close the practice room door and put his trombone back in its rack. He was trying to remember where the auditorium was in his confused state when the school director walked up behind him. "Dipper! Perfect timing. I'm looking for a responsible student to help an important visitor this morning. Considering that you're top in your class I think you'd be perfect. If you're not too busy, that is. I understand that this is rather short-notice." Dipper unjammed his tongue from behind his teeth and said, "I can do that. I was actually just heading over to the auditorium."

"Brilliant!" the man beamed and then looped an arm around Dipper's shoulders as he ushered Dipper into the back of the auditorium. Behind the stage the walls were are dark-lit and a little chilly. Dipper felt his heart beat all the way up his chest and into his throat like a shaky drum. He hadn't seen Wirt (outside of pictures and Skype) for three months. His skin was too-hot under his collared shirt. _Crap, do I even look okay?_  He cursed himself for forgetting to look in a mirror on his way out. Up ahead he heard the distant murmur of people. They walked into a elegantly decorated room and Dipper saw a group of people stand in front of one very modest and shy looking Wirt. Dipper recognized at least three "very import" people standing there talking to Wirt and he felt a wave of nervous amazement course through him again. Did he even deserve to have Wirt as his boyfriend? Wirt was talking quietly but steadily to a very interested crowd, making his signature hand motions like he was waving a story out of the air. God, Dipper took a breath as the director brought him closer to the crowd.

The second Wirt turned around the room went quiet. The curious glance Wirt gave the newcomers turned into his eyes locking on Dipper, mouth open mid-thought. The words never came. Dipper stared back. Silence. They couldn't very well run into each other's arms and kiss each other in front of about twenty extremely wealthy men and women. Wirt shut his mouth like a closed door and the director decided that it was a good time to introduce himself and Dipper.

"Sorry for the wait. I'm Dr. Rehnolds and I hope you've been enjoying your stay." Wirt nodded and politely thanked him profusely. Dipper could only take in the sight of Wirt in front of him. Close but still untouchable. Cashmere jacket draping off of his shoulders and over his hands. Messy brown hair falling over his eyes in a way that looked so meticulously bed-ridden that it looked nice and perfectly wild. He looked so much like a scholar that everyone in the room had probably forgotten that Wirt had never gone to some expensive college like Oxford or Cambridge. Then the director laid a hand on Dipper's shoulder and brought him back to reality.

"This is Mr. Pines. He's one of our best students here at Harvard and would be happy to show you around. If you have any questions or concerns I'm sure he'd be willing to assist you." In an attempt at normalcy Dipper smiled (his trained, polite, Harvard smile) and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Dipper said and Wirt—after a moment of confusion—took his hand with a flushed "thank you." Their hands met and Dipper didn't want to let go. He let go of Wirt's hand but didn't miss Wirt's slight frown when he did. Wirt's fingers curled up like he was keeping the warmth of their skin touching in his palm. Dipper put his hands behind his back with perfect posture because his need for everything to be _right_  got worse when he was nervous. He just wanted to pull Wirt away from all of these people and feel his hands over his skin and neck. The light scratch of his nails and the soft rings of his laugh. He wanted Wirt to tell him about those lonely three months and he wanted them to laugh and tease each other and say everything they couldn't over a computer screen. But he couldn't, not here. Not when he was supposed to be a perfect student. Wirt was asked some questions, all of which he answered surely and to-the-point. Wirt looked at Dipper when he could get away with it, brown eyes blinking up to find his. It was tense between where they stood, like Dipper was wearing a too-tight tie. The wait felt like slow suffocation. Eventually the director said "he's had a long trip, I'm sure we'll get to speak with him again later. Let's allow our guest to put his suitcase away."

Wirt smiled with relief and Dipper almost did as well but managed to keep his face in check. He walked closer to Wirt and said "the guest housing is this way. I'll take you there." He gave another perfect smile and took Wirt's suitcase in his hand, walking out of the room with Wirt following him. They walked down the arched, high-ceiling hallways paved with glossy marble. Other students whispered in hushed tones as Wirt passed. "Look who's following Dipper." "Oh my God, isn't that The Author?" "No way. I wonder if he'd sign my book." Wirt was calm beside him, giving him an odd look every now and then. Dipper wasn't sure what they meant. They turned into a secluded hallway and Dipper stopped in front of a heavily adorned doorway and took out a ring of keys. With surer hands than he thought he'd have, he unlocked the door. Wirt walked in and Dipper rolled in the suitcase after them. The door close with a loud _click_. They were alone. It was quiet. 

Wirt turned to him, a vaguely amused look on his face. "Assist me, hmm?"

Dipper's face went hot, a sudden flush of guilty embarrassment. "I—I didn't..."

Wirt smiled brightly and stepped closer to him, "I came all this way and you don't even remember me, _Mr. Pines_?" Dipper felt his insides melt like molten glass. His back pressed against the door. He swallowed his heart again.

"I'm sorry." Dipper said, shaking his polite, restricted way of speaking. He looked at his feet and then up at Wirt's eyes. His hands desperately wanted to be in Wirt's again. Wirt looked at him but didn't take a step closer. Challenged him. "Can I touch you?" Dipper asked, all shaky around the edges. They hadn't touched for so long. Wirt licked his lip and said "yes," another blush working it's way up his cheeks.

Dipper stepped forward and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around Wirt's waist and pressed himself close against Wirt's body, feeling the subtly scratchy-soft fabric of his boyfriend's sweater and the smell of cinnamon and books. Wirt looped his arms around Dipper's shoulders. Dipper felt like crying. It had been too long. He wanted to never let his boyfriend go. Couldn't. They stood there in the room until their arms went sore and Dipper pulled back a little. "I missed you so much," he said, tears blurring the edges of the room. His words melted together a little. Wirt's eyes were shinning too like little lighthouse brights. "I had to see you."

Wirt wiped his thumbs under Dipper's eyes, wiping the tears across his cheeks. Wirt kissed his eyelids and then his cheeks. Ran his fingers through Dipper's perfect hair and twined their hands together like locking friendship necklaces. Best friends. Wirt smiled at the frankly childish comparison and examined his boyfriend's face. Handsome as ever, of course. Eyes a little red from crying but his were like that too. There were faint but present dark rings under his eyes and a wry but playful smile graced his lips. "How have you been?"

Dipper opened his mouth but in that moment he heard a knock on the door. Dipper and Wirt gave each other a confused glance and then Dipper shrugged and walked over to the door, unlocking it. Dipper wasn't sure who he expected but it definitely hadn't been Jason, his roommate. "Oh." They both looked at each other with surprise for a second before Jason asked "what are you doing here?" Dipper was at loss momentarily before he blushed slightly and said, "just telling our visitor about the school. He was curious." Jason looked him up and down and Dipper sincerely hoped his eyes weren't still red. "What are _you_  doing here?"

Jason cleared his throat and nervously held up a paper letter, "I was, uh, asked to deliver this."

Dipper heard Wirt walk up behind him, "oh, hi. That's probably my schedule."

Jason gave Wirt an obvious once-over and frowned. "Just telling him about the school, huh? This entire year I've never seen you with your shirt collar undone." Dipper crossed his arms and tried to remember when exactly his collar had come undone, "what?"

"He's the person you're always sighing about, isn't he? What, because he's some hot-shot writer he doesn't tell people that you're dating? Keeps you secret? It's obvious that you were just crying, Dipper."

Dipper scowled. "What the hell, no—"

"I wouldn't make you be a secret. I mean...If we were dating."

The room went silent as everyone seemed to process what had just been said. Dipper felt his stomach sink. _Oh no._  "You..." Dipper wasn't sure what to say. Behind him, Dipper saw Wirt's hands ball up.

"Jason, look. Wirt and me aren't a secret, we just like to keep things kind of private. I really love Wirt. He's honestly the best boyfriend I could ever ask for. Better than the best. I can't accept your feelings."

"But—" Jason started.

Dipper cut him off, "our relationship isn't really any of your business and please don't insult my boyfriend again."

Jason's face scrunched up, red, and then he threw Wirt's letter on the ground and ran down the hallway. Dipper felt a little bad. "Crap, was I too mean?" He didn't get a response so he turned around. Wirt's face almost collided with his and they both fell to the carpet. Wirt kissed him a little hard and then they got the angle right and Dipper moaned, pulling at Wirt's messy hair, soft beneath his fingers. He panted when Wirt pulled away, hands clutching Dipper's shoulders so hard his knuckles were white. "What-what was that for?" Dipper asked, his lips wet and breathing labored. Wirt blushed again, shrugging a little, "Sorry, nervous tension or something." Dipper raised an eyebrow, "are you being a little possesive here?" Wirt's eyes widened like he'd been caught doing something wrong and brought his hands to cover his face, "oh God, no. I mean, maybe? I'm sorry. I just, I don't know. Gosh, I'm awful."

Dipper shook his head and pulled Wirt against his chest, so that his boyfriend was comfortable on his lap, feather-soft hair tickling his chin. "No, it's okay."

Wirt hugged Dipper and mumbled, "I hope he tells everyone he sees."

Dipper laughed and messed up Wirt's hair, "you _are_  being possessive."

Wirt frown slipped easily into a smile, "as if."

"Oh, you doth protest too much me thinks," Dipper smiled as Wirt pushed him into the carpet.

"Oh please, like you're not possesive. Let's think back to when we were in grade school and—"

Dipper mock-gasped and rolled on top of Wirt, "Shhh, don't make me remember that."

After a minute of playful combacks they stopped and Wirt stared up at Dipper's face above him. "Okay, I surrender. Maybe I was a _tad_  possessive just then."

He leaned up and kissed Dipper's lips. They were both a mess. Jackets and shirts crumbled and undone.

Childish once more.

 

> “There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”  
>  ― Friedrich Nietzsche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now let the hiatus begin again


End file.
